Attached
by ALC Punk
Summary: And she thought she was insane before. Now the Jack O'Neill in her head talks back. Sam&Pete, Sam
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Not mine. Set: Season 8, contains vagueish spoilers.  
Rating: R. Sex, violence, snark.  
Pairings: Pete/Sam, Jack/Sam, a bunch of strange ones in a mirror universe.  
Archive: Anyone and everyone, yes. (SJFic archive, yes please)  
Summary: And she thought she was insane before. Now the Jack O'Neill in her head talks back.  
Notes: Large swathes of dialogue are literally from Ryuu and I going back in forth in aim. So you should all thank her. Lots. cackle In fact, the entire last half of this fic (where Jack has a beer) to the end was written entirely in dialogue-form, and then converted because there had to be a, uh, way for the conversation to, ah, work. Which is why the first half was written. g This is an unfinished story (or, the universe is unfinished, since this does have a kind of ending)  
Pete note: I changed the ending of Chimera, slightly. Feedback can be sent to: and  
  
Attached by Lyssie and Ryuu  
  
It had seemed perfectly natural. Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter had always talked to an imaginary (then Colonel, now General)Jack O'Neill in her head when the occasion required it. He'd been a figment, made up of one dimension on a seven dimensional plain. Perfect for a sounding board, to bounce off command decisions. It was a cliche, but What Would Jack O'Neill Do? had saved her and SG-1 countless times.  
  
And now that she led them, it still helped.  
  
So, yes. It seemed perfectly natural for her to be muttering at him as she dodged around a corner in the temple and for him to answer back.  
  
::I'm so SORRY to be a burden, Carter.::  
  
Of course he was. ::After all, you're not stuck here, with five jaffa on your tail while Teal'c and Daniel get to the gate for reinforcements.::  
  
::Well, no, of course I'm not.::  
  
Rolling her eyes, Sam cautiously moved to the next corner. Drawing them off had been Teal'c's suggestion, but he was still recovering from the energy surge that had knocked the three of them out. For some reason, she wasn't as affected. Later, they could speculate on it being a function that only disabled males. Or something. Right now, she was worried about them getting home safely.  
  
::Are you saying men are more susceptible to energy blasts?::  
  
::Of course not.:: she snapped back. ::Now stop distracting me.::  
  
::Why not? You're distracting ME from this lovely mountain of paperwork.:: He sounded as irritated as she felt.  
  
And Sam Carter suddenly froze. Normally, a voice in her head didn't sound... quite so authentic. Or maybe this was some crazy side effect of the energy surge. ::Sir?::  
  
::...Carter?::  
  
Her eyes widened. ::What time is -- no, wait. Uhm... What is Walter doing right this minute?::  
  
::Giving me a strange look and wondering why I'm muttering to myself.::  
  
"Jaffa, kree!" The shout came from too close, and Sam swore.  
  
::Be quiet, sir.:: With swift movements she made her way down two more corridors, narrowly missing two jaffa. If she had an idea how many there were, she might simply take them out. But there had been the noise of an alkesh, and that wasn't a good sign.  
  
Really wasn't a good sign.  
  
::Daniel just came through with a request for backup. Y'know, Carter, I think I saw a porno like this, once. This guy got telepathy, and--::  
  
::Sir!::  
  
::Carter?::  
  
::There are staff blasts whizzing around my head. Shut up.:: Later, Sam decided, she could panic and demand to know just WHY the General O'Neill in her head sounded like the real thing. Later, when she wasn't worried about Teal'c or about getting her ass off of this forsaken ball of rock. And maybe he wouldn't court-martial her for the insubordination. She dodged around another corner, and they lost her.  
  
Minutes later, he said, ::I'm sending SGs 12 and 17 to cover your six, Carter. Now get the hell out of there.::  
  
::Yes, sir.:: Picturing a salute in her head, Sam ducked around another corner. ::Er, sir? How many jaffa?::  
  
::Daniel said Teal'c guesses around five hundred.::  
  
Well, hell.  
  
Making her way back to the gate, Sam passed at least three platoons of jaffa. They weren't moving stealthily, and seemed to not be aware that she was there. Grateful for that, she eventually was crouched in the bushes nearby, and was thus there to watch the gate disgorge the two SG teams.  
  
Knowing the way his brain thought, Sam scanned the scrubby brush until she found Teal'c crouched on the other side. Curiously, the jaffa hadn't appeared to investigate the invaders.  
  
::Maybe we're getting lucky.:: She muttered to the Jack in her head. Clicking her radio twice, she saw Teal'c nod from the other side. Then she stood and stepped out, "Hey."  
  
The two teams, which had been occupying themselves with securing the gate area, snapped around to hold their weapons steadily on her. Major Gavin Korr stared at her for a moment before saluting. "Colonel Carter. We were told to come through."  
  
"Uh, yeah. Apparently, backup was a little premature." She grimaced and shrugged. "We got lucky."  
  
A staff blast impacted the brush nearby, and Sam threw herself forward, turning around to fire at the on-coming jaffa. ::Ok, maybe not.::  
  
::Didn't I tell you never to say that?::  
  
::It's usually Daniel that does.:: She snapped back, ducking down behind the dhd.  
  
::Well, don't you start saying it. I'd hate to have to call you Pollyana instead of Carter.::  
  
::Thanks, sir. I'd hate that.::  
  
::Yeah, you'd have to do your hair up in ponytails and start sucking on, uh, lollipops.::  
  
She raised her eyebrows and nailed three jaffa in quick succession. ::Lollipops?::  
  
::Yup.::  
  
There was a pause as the jaffa seemed to be regrouping, and Sam jumped up and dialed home. They were probably regrouping so they could bring in the big cannons. Or something like that. Jaffa tactics tended to be: shoot until it's dead. Unless they were going to drag you before their God. And then it was: shoot until they're unconscious and injured. ::Let us in.::  
  
::Would I let you splat against the iris, Carter?::  
  
::I certainly hope not, sir.::  
  
"I've sent the code, ma'am." One of the lieutenants from SG-12 said, his voice nervous.  
  
"Good man. Now get your ass through that gate."  
  
The retreat through the gate was fairly swift, with Sam and Teal'c being the last two people out. And they were running, staff blasts flying around them. She was shouting as she hit the ramp, dropping to her knees as the energy bolts sliced into the gate room. "Close the iris!" Three bolts impacted on the far wall, darkening the grey to black before the hissing scrape of the iris closing echoed.  
  
::Gosh, Carter. It's almost like old times.::  
  
"Sorry, sir. I didn't mean to get the gateroom shot up."  
  
The General raised his eyebrows from the bottom of the ramp. "Infirmary for you, Carter. And then debrief in, uh--Walter?"  
  
"Three hours, sir." The be-speckled aide said.  
  
"Right."  
  
::No hug, sir?:: Hey, if he was a figment of her imagination, she could make fun of him.  
  
The General's eyebrows shot higher. "Uh. Right. Infirmary, Carter."  
  
"Yes, sir." She tossed a really sloppy salute at him, then got up, accepting Teal'c's hand. She winced slightly. Her knees were probably bruised from the impact with the grating. And then there was the whole Jack O'Neill in her head thing.  
  
--  
  
The trip to the infirmary was brief, Dr. Brightman merely drawing blood, shining lights in her eyes and generally being brisk about things. Sam didn't mention either the knees or the weird mental hallucination.  
  
::I'm a hallucination now?::  
  
::Yes.::  
  
Even the energy surge that had knocked Teal'c and Daniel out seemed to have done nothing to them. Sam pondered whether the surge could have affected her brain chemistry, then shook her head. This was just a really... ::Sir?::  
  
::I'm kind of busy signing papers, Carter.::  
  
::Um...:: Pausing as she stepped into the locker room, Sam poked at the voice in her head.  
  
::Ow. What'd you do that for?::  
  
A shaft of pain made her stagger, and she sat on the bench, wincing. ::Oops. Sir, shouldn't we, uh, mention that this is happening?::  
  
::Oh, that'll go over well. 'Hey, Doc, Carter and I are talking telepathically to each other.' Think she'd lock us up in the same room?::  
  
Rolling her eyes, Sam got up and began getting her shower stuff out of her locker. ::I suppose you're right.:: She sighed and unbuttoned her shirt, hanging it inside the locker.  
  
::I am always right, Carter.:: He sounded smug.  
  
::Really? I'm sure I could come up with lots of times you weren't.::  
  
::Hey! No under-cutting your commanding officer, Colonel.::  
  
::Sir, yes, sir.:: Her boots thunked into the bottom of the locker and she was halfway out of her pants before she narrowed her eyes. ::Can you see what I'm thinking?::  
  
::Nope. Only,:: there was a pause, and then, ::when you 'say' stuff.::  
  
Hrm. She carefully arranged her pants and dumped her underwear into the net bag in the back of the locker. ::So, this is more of a... like standing in a room with no one else around, and the sound very low.::  
  
::Something like that.:: He was distracted.  
  
::In a briefing, sir?::  
  
::SG-19. Dr. Kinnrough could give Daniel a run for his annoying and boring money.::  
  
A grin stretched her lips, ::Ah, sir. You're not giving poor Miles a chance. He's a very fascinating man and can go on at great length about his favorite subject.::  
  
::Rocks.:: Her CO supplied sardonically.  
  
::Bingo.:: The water was too cold, so she turned the knob. ::You could be stuck with Dr. Felger and his stick figure gate mechanics, sir.::  
  
::Oh, the horror.::  
  
Turning her face up to the spray, Sam smiled. ::Now go back to paying attention, sir. And stop doodling in your notebook.::  
  
::Hey! I'll have you know these are perfectly legitimate sketches.::  
  
::Homer Simpson beating Miles with a doughnut is NOT a legitimate sketch.::  
  
::D'oh!::  
  
Amused at the fact that she knew him so well, Sam chuckled and began lathering up. ::Sir? I'm going to stop talking to you now.::  
  
::You're abandoning me?::  
  
::Yup.::  
  
::Heartless woman.::  
  
Pausing to grab her razor, Sam snorted. ::I'd rather not nick myself, sir. Besides, you have a facility to run, remember? You can't get caught talking to yourself. Imaginary friends isn't a good excuse when there have already been imaginary creatures that were on another inter-dimensional plain.::  
  
An exaggerated sigh echoed in her brain. ::If you insist.::  
  
::Besides, you don't have the brain power to multi-task.::  
  
::Mocking your commanding officer is a sure way to get demoted, Colonel.::  
  
::Uh-huh. Not when it can't be proved.:: Smug now, Sam finished scraping the soap and stubble from her legs and simply stood under the water, enjoying the feel of the heat pounding into her muscles.  
  
::Trying for that room with the rubber walls, Carter?::  
  
::I'm not speaking to you until the briefing. Sir.:: She turned off the shower and grabbed the towel.  
  
He didn't reply, and she felt strangely bereft for a moment until she remembered that she wasn't supposed to be able to talk to her commanding officer with her mind. So she began thinking about that, what could have caused it, whether it was all in her head or not. And if Daniel or Teal'c had the same condition. Probably not. Neither had mentioned it, and, well, she hadn't 'heard' them. Just the General.  
  
It was very strange. And somewhat disturbing to know that Jack O'Neill was now simply a thought away. Probably.  
  
--  
  
So she wasn't going insane.  
  
Probably.  
  
::Carter?::  
  
The debriefing had gone well. SGs 12 and 17 had given their small reports, Daniel and Teal'c had given their's. Sam had added in her opinions that the temple might bear some further interest, but that at the moment it was over-run by jaffa. There weren't any readings taken on the energy surge that had knocked them all out, although Dr. Brightman hadn't found anything that indicated they were injured (not even the normal residual buzzed effect a zat blast left on their cells).  
  
All in all, it had been splendidly short.  
  
With commentary.  
  
So she wasn't speaking to him, except vocally, and she wasn't being anything but perfectly civil.  
  
::C'mon, I'm sorry I made you chuckle when Major Kincaide was giving her report.::  
  
"Daniel, Teal'c, with the General's permission, I'm putting us on downtime for the next two days. The both of you are not allowed to do anything remotely work-like."  
  
The two nodded in acquiescence. Carter thought that the two team-leaders of SGs 12 and 17 were giving her slightly odd looks, but they probably just were surprised that SG-1 was taking downtime after such a short (and easy) mission. And while normally she would have objected to being told to not work, Sam was beginning to feel oddly disturbed about having Jack O'Neill in her head. Or near enough as to be in her head. If that's what it was.  
  
Maybe it was just proximity.  
  
::You came through loud and clear from that planet, Carter.::  
  
Damn. ::I'm--:: not speaking to him. Right. She narrowed her eyes at him and collected her papers. It was time to go home and pretend that the day was over (or had never happened. She was kind of enjoying that thought. The day never happening would allow her to prop her feet up and watch bad TV). She'd made it to the door, trailing the others, when he called after her.  
  
"Just a minute, Colonel Carter."  
  
When the others had disappeared, she turned back to him. "Sir?"  
  
"This, uh..." he gestured. "Thing. It won't..."  
  
"Get in the way?" She raised an eyebrow. "I think I can pretend that I can't talk to you telepathically. Since, theoretically, it's impossible."  
  
"Ah. Right then." A nod, then he half-smiled. "Have fun on your days off, Carter."  
  
"Thank you, sir."  
  
-- 


	2. Chapter Two

Nearly 24 hours went by before Sam thought about General O'Neill. And then it was at probably one of the worst moments for her to be thinking about him. Pete Shanahan was kissing her, his hands up the back of her shirt. And she had been fully prepared for all of the implications this entailed until it occurred to her that she could accidentally say something to the General. When... Her cheeks heated as Pete began kissing his way down her jaw.  
  
Great. Now that she'd thought about it, there was no way that it wouldn't happen. Suddenly, her already complicated life was twice complicated. Damnit.  
  
"Uh, Pete." Her fingers tangled in his hair and she tugged slightly. All desire to have sex had just flown out the window. The mere thought of having the General say something (while on one level being strangely erotic, but she wasn't supposed to think of that sort of thing) was enough to make her want to run far far away and never come back. Suddenly, the ability to talk to him telepathically was not nifty and amusing. It was nothing short of like being trapped in a cell she couldn't get out of.  
  
"Hrm?" Her lover pulled his mouth from her neck and blinked at her. "What is it?"  
  
"I hate to sound cliche, but I've got a headache." A big one, and his name was Jack O'Neill.  
  
Pete blinked at her. "You want me to make you some tea?"  
  
"No, um, actually, I hate to cut our day short, but do you think you could go back to your hotel?" Oh, wow. That had come out horribly.  
  
"Sam? Are you ok?"  
  
"I'm fine." She met his worried look and forced a smile onto her face. "I just feel really tired suddenly. It's a good thing I'm off for a few days. I've probably been working too hard."  
  
"On that deep space radar telemetry." There was only a slight trace of sarcasm in Pete's voice. He'd learned long ago not to push her about her work. Even though he knew part of it was about top secret weapons research -- the Pentagon had refused her one request to tell him about the stargate. Sam had long since stopped being upset about that. It was classified, and the sooner he got used to her not telling him anything, the better. He moved away and picked up his jacket. "I'll call you later, all right?"  
  
Glad that he wasn't pushing, that he was giving her space she suddenly desperately needed, Sam nodded. "Thanks. And I'm sorry."  
  
He caught her face between his hands and smiled softly, "It's all right, Sam." He kissed her gently. "You just get lots of rest, take your vitamins, and eat a hearty meal."  
  
::The condemned ate a hearty meal.:: She thought morbidly. Too late, realizing she'd thought it at the imaginary Jack O'Neill, who was beginning to not be so imaginary. If there really was telepathy. Or she was just going insane.  
  
::Getting executed without me, Carter?:: Jack sounded distracted.  
  
::Sorry. Random thought.:: She locked her front door and leaned her forehead against it, suddenly as worn as she'd claimed to be. ::Won't happen again, sir.::  
  
::It's all right, Carter.:: There was a pause, and she could almost feel his attention shifting to her. ::You sound sad.::  
  
::Just thinking.:: A strange smile crossed her lips and she backed from the door and wandered into the kitchen, looking for the bottle of wine left over from Janet's wake. She hadn't ever planned to drink it, but now seemed like as good a time as any.  
  
::About?::  
  
::We need,:: She popped the cork expertly and poured a glass. ::Guidelines.::  
  
::Ah.::  
  
She downed two glasses in quick succession. ::I was hoping this would go away, you know. That it was some strange side effect.::  
  
::Think we should tell the Doc?::  
  
A head shake, but then she remembered he couldn't see it. ::No. I... I don't think anyone should know, sir. There are too many people who would use it as an excuse for -- something.::  
  
::Ah.:: She couldn't tell if he caught her reference to the regulations, and how this could affect them, or if he was thinking about other things. ::The NID, for instance, would be interested.::  
  
::Yes.::  
  
::So... what guidelines?::  
  
Another glass downed swiftly, and then she paused to sip at the fourth. It wasn't a particularly good wine, but it was better than nothing. And she really didn't want to go shopping right now. ::I don't know, sir. How do you put guidelines on telepathy that you can't control and don't understand?::  
  
::And want to go away?:: It was a guess, his voice sounded tentative.  
  
Yes. No. Maybe. The wine was working on a mostly empty stomach, and she could swear a pleasant haze was beginning to color her vision. ::I... can't answer that, right now.:: Frustration filled her, and she downed the last of the glass and went to pour another, and found that there was only half a glass left. ::Damnit.::  
  
::Carter, I want to continue this, but I've got to deal with Davis for a while. He and the Pentagon are on my back about some reports that were supposed to be faxed three weeks ago.:: Frustration that matched hers echoed in her brain.  
  
::You're still at work?:: It was nearly seven. He should have been home. She could shove her irritation to the side for now. Really.  
  
::A General's work is never done.:: The sarcasm was dry.  
  
::Good luck, sir.::  
  
::Right. And we're continuing this later, even if I have to wake you up. Got it?::  
  
::Understood, sir.:: Resisting the urge to throw the wine bottle against the wall (it wouldn't shatter anyway), Sam set her glass in the sink and the bottle in the recycling bin. Later. Even if she was asleep. Right. That should be one of the guidelines right there.  
  
--  
  
Sam stared up at the ceiling in her room, pondering. The alcoholic buzz had warn off around midnight, and now she was simply tired. And unable to sleep.  
  
::Carter?:: He sounded tired, even from here. And she suddenly wondered if this was because they had all deserted him. He had a whole new set of priorities and responsibilities, and very few people to help shoulder the burdens. Instead of having her and Daniel and Teal'c to rely on, he had Walter and secretaries and accountants.  
  
Jack had never been fond of the latter two. ::I'm still awake.::  
  
::So. Guidelines?::  
  
::No talking unless it's work-related, and generally only if there's an emergency situation where it's required.::  
  
::So, only if you've been kidnaped by the NID, then.:: He sounded smug.  
  
::Pretty much.::  
  
A sigh. ::So I can't mock the people I deal with day in and day out?::  
  
::Probably best not to.:: It was almost like having him right there. Again, she wondered what would happen if, say, she were in the middle of having sex with Pete and... ::And maybe we should think of a way to, uh, knock.::  
  
She was sure his eyebrow was up. ::Knock?::  
  
::Something like the poking -- but... like a tap on the shoulder?:: She considered and then reached out.  
  
::Gah. Not painful, but weird. Carter, that could be more distracting than you randomly talking to me in the middle of the afternoon.::  
  
::Ah. Well, how about we just say, "Hi. You busy?"::  
  
::That's so... mundane.::  
  
::Sir, we're speaking telepathically, I don't think it's mundane at all.::  
  
::Fine, fine.:: A yawn. ::Go to sleep, Carter.::  
  
::That an order, sir?::  
  
::Do I need to make it one?::  
  
::Good night, sir.::  
  
::Good night, Carter.::  
  
--  
  
Over the next two weeks, the SGC as a whole was slightly intrigued to find that General O'Neill and Colonel Carter seemed to read each others' minds more than ever before. Sometimes, it seemed as if they didn't even have to speak to know what the other was going to say (although Sam had quickly insisted that they speak ideas aloud, as it wouldn't be fair to everyone else). Dr. Jackson worked on the translations from the temple (they'd gotten most of it photographed before the energy surge knocked them out) with the help of some of the linguists, and Teal'c. So far, they'd narrowed down that it was an obscure goa'uld dialect that had died out about ten thousand years before.  
  
SG-1 went on three missions, two of which ended perfectly fine, one of which ended with them running back through the gate with the natives chasing them. The General always seemed to know when they'd be back, too. Arriving in the control room about two minutes before the gate would dial.  
  
Walter, especially, began to attribute it to the fact that it was SG-1.  
  
Except that the General also did it when a certain Lieutenant Colonel was seconded to SG-3 for a rescue mission involving the Tok'ra. In fact, he paced, muttered, and cursed for the full two minutes it took for the gate to connect to them and told Walter not to close the iris. Seconds later, the Colonel, her father, and a troop of free jaffa several Tok'ra and SG-3 came tumbling through.  
  
The General closed the iris himself, palm slapping down before Walter could react to the end of the parade on the ramp.  
  
Later, Walter would relate to Siler that the General then did the weirdest thing ever. He simply turned and went back up the stairs to his office. He didn't tell the team in the gateroom to head for the infirmary, or when their de-briefing was (Walter scheduled it for 1700 hours). Normal procedure would have been for him to do all of that.  
  
"Maybe it's telepathy," Siler suggested with an indifferent shrug.  
  
Walter frowned. HE was the only one allowed to have any sort of telepathy, damnit. That was the only way he kept ahead of the ever-distracted General. "I hope not. That could..."  
  
"I don't think it's with everyone," interrupted Siler. He paused, and said, his tone almost careful, "Just with... one person."  
  
"One...?" Thinking about it, Walter felt his eyes widen. "One. Oh. OH. You think...?"  
  
"No. I don't think. And neither should you." Siler poked at the circuit board he'd been soldering.  
  
"Right." Giving a decisive nod, Walter went back to his paperwork. "No thinking."  
  
-- 


	3. Chapter Three

Three weeks, and Sam was almost used to talking randomly to the Jack O'Neill in her head. They had both tried, but they kept forgetting their rules, so Jack was being entertained with her own brand of sarcasm. All of the things she'd always wanted to say out loud, but couldn't, she was saying to him. In return, he frequently made her laugh with his scathing commentary on his own job, paperwork, Walter.  
  
She and Pete were still seeing each other, although she had been careful about getting back into the physical side of their relationship. Luckily, she got so used to Jack saying things that it didn't interrupt her. Mostly.  
  
Once or twice, they'd carried on conversations while she and Pete were making out. It was kind of weird. And the third time, the General caught on that she was with Pete, and that he was kissing her. And then he smugly informed her that if it were him kissing her there'd be no brain power left to talk to someone telepathically.  
  
She didn't speak to him for nearly a day after that one.  
  
When she finally did, she discovered he still had a horrible sense of timing. Pete was down for the weekend. ::Hey, Carter, Felger just came storming in to ask me--::  
  
::Not now.:: Sam closed her eyes and groaned as Pete nipped his way down her stomach.  
  
::But--::  
  
::What's the problem?:: If it were quick, and he got his words out now, she could solve his problem before -- Pete slid lower, and she arched into his touch.  
  
::Something about sub-mesonic particles emenating from an artefact SG-21 brought back.::  
  
::What're they,:: She paused, breathing in slowly. Pete and his fingers and tongue were quite talented, ::--doing?::  
  
::Collecting?::  
  
Pete nipped at her, sliding his fingers in just so, and Sam felt the world disappear into a plain that lacked sight and sound. ::Oh, GOD.:: "Have Felger call me."  
  
It took her almost a minute to realize she had mixed up the recipients of the messages. Pete's head was tilted as he stared up at her. "Sam?"  
  
Closing her eyes, Sam fought against the urge to kill General O'Neill with her bare hands. "Sorry. Something I was thinking about."  
  
"Ok. Was that -- did you --?" He sounded tentative.  
  
"Oh, yeah." Letting out a breath, Sam smiled. "Definitely."  
  
::Uh, Carter?::  
  
::I'm not speaking to you right now. Possibly not ever.::  
  
::Could make briefings short and sweet.::  
  
::I'll make sure Daniel has lots to tell you about.::  
  
::I'll make it mandatory that all briefings are only 15 minutes long.::  
  
"Sam?"  
  
She blinked down at Pete. "Sorry. Um, look...."  
  
Pete climbed off the bed and stood, he ran a hand through his hair, "You're breaking up with me, aren't you."  
  
"Well--"  
  
"I've been waiting for you to just..." He sighed, "Realize it. You haven't really been here, in this relationship, that is."  
  
"Pete, I." She stopped. Sam stopped trying to placate him, and really concentrated on what he was saying, and how she felt. And he was right. It wasn't something she'd wanted to think about because it meant another failed relationship. "I'm sorry."  
  
"I don't know if it's your job, or someone else, or what. And..." He looked down and found his shoes. "And I'm not sure I mind. Either way, I don't think we could last. Not with you having to lie about what you do."  
  
"Classified, Pete. Not lies. I can't tell you."  
  
::Carter?::  
  
::Still not speaking to you.::  
  
"I know." He looked wistful for a moment, then picked up his jacket. "Look, I don't think we can remain friends -- I mean, what would we talk about?"  
  
Yeah. She looked down, suddenly embarrassed to still be half-naked while he was still fully dressed. "Good luck on finding a woman who will love you." She meant it with sincerity. She'd liked Pete. She still did. Just, not enough to fight him over this. She hated having to lie to him.  
  
He leaned over and kissed her gently. "Don't lock yourself away from the world, Sam."  
  
"I won't." Her whisper echoed in the suddenly empty bedroom. The front door closed, the latch clicking all the way back here. A few minutes later she heard his car start.  
  
And then he was really gone.  
  
--  
  
::See, I told you.::  
  
::I hate you right now, and I'm still not talking to you.::  
  
The SGC had been stunned by the sudden apparent estrangement of Colonel Carter from her boyfriend (which had killed several pools regarding her and the General) as well as General O'Neill. She seemed more irritated with the General than before, occasionally displaying a short temper that gave quite a few of the younger SFs a good idea of the kind of woman they wouldn't mind having. Strong, arrogant, a bitch. And yet she was beautiful and smart, and they loved that about her. If half of them weren't already in love with her, watching her bicker with the General sealed it.  
  
Some of her arguments bordered on insubordination, but the General seemed to take it all in stride.  
  
Just when the SGC had begun to wonder if they needed to lock the two in a closet together until they either killed each other or had sex, Dr. Jackson and his team deciphered the inscriptions in the temple.  
  
--  
  
"From what we can tell, the device was supposed to boost mental capabilities in -- and this is what is weird -- women."  
  
Sam Carter frowned. "So, Daniel, you're saying they wanted their women... mentally more powerful?"  
  
He pushed his glasses up his nose. "I think so. It's kind of unclear, but I think what it did was create a kind of psychic rapport between the woman and the man chosen for her."  
  
"Man chosen?"  
  
"Typically her husband, in some cases, it appears she was given rapport to her lover, or her cousin. I'm not quite sure how the bond is formed, but if the texts we translated are correct -- and this could be the source of the myth of St. Valentine." He rambled, "Which is really interesting and begs the question whether this started first, or that did. Or if the idea passed down through--"  
  
"Daniel!" The General had a hand up. "What does Valentine's day have to do with an alien machine?"  
  
"The myth about women -- the first man a woman gazed upon on St. Valentine's Day was the man she was destined to marry. According to our research, the first man the woman touches psychically is the man she is bonded to." Daniel flipped through his notes. "Not that we have any way of finding out, since only Sam was..." He blinked myopically, and stared at the suddenly flushed Colonel. "Uh, Sam?"  
  
"Somethin' you wanna share with the class, Carter?" The General's tone was superior.  
  
"Gosh, sir, I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
"I believe Daniel Jackson, that Colonel Carter and O'Neill have been 'linked' since we left P4X-235." Teal'c said into the tense silence.  
  
Daniel blinked again, "Well, that would explain..."  
  
"Yeah." Sam refused to look at the General. "It's simply governed by, what, the first man the woman reaches out for?"  
  
"Something like that. We're not completely certain, because we're not really sure how the machine works. But, Sam, this is great. It means it does work. So, what, you and Jack share the same mind now? Or emotions, or--what?"  
  
"Telepathy." With a glance at the General (and here she'd sworn to not look at him), she sighed. "It's like having a private telephone line."  
  
"I feel," Daniel said, "Like I've just been handed the rest of the puzzle pieces. Suddenly, all of those smirks you get in briefings make sense. Jack."  
  
"Daniel."  
  
"You've been talking to Sam. And Sam's been talking to you." He eyed them, "Now I know why she laughs when she's on watch."  
  
"I do not!" Which wasn't quite true. Sam had broken the 'no talking while on watch' rule several times. Jack had a tendency to sleep badly when SG-1 was off world, so she... would tell him silly stories to put him to sleep.  
  
"So, we know this telepathic bond definitely stretches a long ways, if the two of you can 'hear' each other on two different planets."  
  
"Yes. Theoretically, I suppose it travels everywhere," Sam said.  
  
"Hey!" Daniel pushed up his glasses and almost bounced in his chair. "I wonder if it passes between mirror universes?"  
  
"Daniel--"  
  
"No, this could be of benefit, Sam. Think about it. You get a bunch of women on base linked to a bunch of the men, and half the teams would move more cohesively, and--"  
  
"Daniel." She interrupted.  
  
"I think we should test and see if you can hear Jack, and he can hear you, from the other side of the mirror."  
  
Scientific curiosity, as most of the SGC knows, is a bad thing. Sam Carter, sadly, didn't realize this. "That... actually, that could be something to try out, sir."  
  
The General sighed, "We still got the controller for that hunk of metal?"  
  
"Down with said hunk on level 29."  
  
"Fine." The General stood and clapped his hands. "No time like the present, Danny, Carter. Let's go test this bond thingie."  
  
--  
  
They'd scanned through until they'd found a deserted-looking mirror universe. The mirror was in a similarly disused storage room, and Sam took a deep breath before stepping up to it. She was holding the controller, since it was the only way she could get back if (heaven forbid) the mirror shut down after she went through. She tossed Daniel a half-smile and reached out for the surface.  
  
"Good luck."  
  
::Don't let the bed bugs bite.::  
  
A chuckle escaped her lips, and then she was touching the mirror. Energy rippled across her skin, tickling, almost. It was like the feel of the event horizon of a wormhole. Then the sensation was gone, and she found herself on the other side.  
  
Klaxons began blaring, and Sam had less than a second to turn and spot the automated weapons-system in the corner before blue zat fire slammed into her, and her muscles froze. Moments later, blackness engulfed her.  
  
-- 


	4. Chapter Four

::Stupid beer. I should never let Daniel get me beer.::  
  
The voice was familiar, and cranky. Really cranky. Sam groaned and dragged herself into something resembling consciousness. One glance showed that she was in the brig of the SGC. Or at least something as grey and depressing as the SGC brig.  
  
::Flat beer. Daniel is so--::  
  
::I'm stuck in another universe, and you're drinking beer?::  
  
There was dead silence in her brain, and she took the moment to sit up on the uncomfortable cot they'd left her on. She rubbed at the crick in her neck. Definitely the SGC's brig.  
  
::Carter!::  
  
::That's my name, sir, don't wear it out.::  
  
::Well, you're grumpy.::  
  
::You're drinking beer! And not even worrying about me.:: She glared at the opposite wall, wishing she could glare at him.  
  
::I'm simply fully aware that you can take care of yourself, Carter.::  
  
::Gosh, that makes me feel so special.:: Ok. So maybe that was going over the top a little bit. But he didn't have to agree with Daniel's suggestion. Next time, HE could be the damn guinea pig.  
  
::I wouldn't trust you with my life if I thought you weren't capable.::  
  
Oh. She knew she was blushing, but she didn't care. She sighed. ::Sorry. I just feel... irritated when I'm locked in our brig--well, not ours. But a different SGC's in a mirror universe. Although I think this one is closer to -- never mind. I'm just bored...::  
  
::...should I get you some crosswords?::  
  
A half smile touched her lips. As if he could get anything to her. Now that she was stuck here, and they'd taken away the controller, too. Damnit. ::I should've remembered to put the cards down my shirt, like normal.:: She informed him. It had become habit, after the fourth time SG-1 was captured off world. A bored Jack O'Neill could become a danger to his team mates, so Sam Carter perfected the art of stashing a small deck of playing cards in her bra. Daniel had laughed hysterically once when she'd been forced to admit it while drunk and losing badly at a game of Monopoly. Luckily, Teal'c was the only other occupant of the room at the time.  
  
If she'd ever wondered if he could smirk without saying anything, she knew now. ::Now there's a fun mental image, Carter.::  
  
She glared again. ::How else am I supposed to keep you occupied when we get captured?::  
  
::I'm sure I can think of other ways.::  
  
Sam was silent for a moment, imagining (for a second) what he might mean. ::You probably can.:: And she felt her lips twisting into a smirk. She had been hanging around him for way too long.  
  
A mental cough reached her. And she shot back, sweetly, ::Cat got your tongue, sir?::  
  
More coughing.  
  
The door to the brig opened and Sam stood, wincing slightly at the way her muscles still twinged. ::Be quiet, sir.::  
  
::Why?::  
  
A man walked into the room and she sighed. ::I should have known, sir.::  
  
::Huh?::  
  
"General." She didn't bother saluting him.  
  
The man across from her raised his eyebrows and regarded her coldly. "I didn't realize I'd given you permission to speak, spy."  
  
"I'm not a spy," Sam said patiently. It was disturbing that Jack O'Neill could look at her like she was an enemy, but she continued on. "I'm from a quantum universe. I came through the mirror downstairs."  
  
"That is yet to be determined." He flicked a cold look over her, his features twisting in distaste as he took in her BDUs. "And never forget, we at the SGC know how to deal with snakehead traitors."  
  
"Great. So do we, General. And I'm not a traitor, or a snakehead, or a Tok'ra."  
  
"We'll see." He sneered, "The infirmary is preparing for the tests now." With those words, he turned and left the cell area.  
  
Sam sighed, suddenly sad. ::I kind of wish you were here.:: She kicked at the floor. Damnit.  
  
::Ah.:: There was something vaguely wistful in his tone.  
  
::Not that I think having you in this cell would make things any better, sir. But it would be nice to have company.:: And amusing to watch him snark at himself.  
  
::Gee, thanks, Carter.::  
  
She grinned and flopped onto the cot again. ::Wish they'd give me a beer. You know, sir, your counterpart here is a very harsh man.::  
  
::Is he, now?::  
  
::Yes. He wouldn't even listen when I told him I was from a quantum universe.::  
  
::Remember when we used to think things like that were weird?::  
  
She grinned wryly and settled back against the wall, crossing her legs. ::Vaguely. Of course, he also said something about knowing how to deal with snakehead traitors.::  
  
::Did you tell him that we do too?::  
  
::Of course. But they're holding me until there's time to run tests. I hate tests.::  
  
::Me too. Especially ones with needles.::  
  
A shudder made her wonder if it was extra cold in the cells. ::And the cat scan. You know, I think I'm claustrophobic from the amount of times I've been in that thing.::  
  
::Ugh.::  
  
A scraping warned her and she looked up to find the General and a bunch of SFs on the other side of the bars. ::Oh, great. The other you is back.::  
  
::But you still like me more, right?::  
  
::Have you thrown me in the--wait, you have. Um... Yes?::  
  
::Well, you had a Goa'uld in you at the time...::  
  
Tok'ra, but she wasn't going to dispute him on it, this time. ::That's so very comforting.::  
  
::I fully intended to go beat the snot of them until they told us how to free you.::  
  
::Ok. That does make me feel better.:: The door was opened, and gestures made it clear she was to leave the cell. With a soft sigh, she did. ::Ooo. Seven SFs to escort li'l ol' me to the infirmary. I feel so special.::  
  
The General's voice was wry as he replied, ::For you? I'd've gone with at least ten.::  
  
::Hah. I'm only going for routine tests. This isn't like being kidnaped by some crazy millionaire who wants to kill me.::  
  
::Still have gone with ten...::  
  
::Are you saying I'm difficult to convince to have tests done?:: She demanded as they went down several levels and then walked down more (somewhat) familiar SGC halls.  
  
::I'm saying that I think very carefully about asking you to do anything you don't want to do.::  
  
::Oh.:: It was a shock to see the doctor as they stepped into the infirmary. She was still short and could freeze an SF with a look. ::Janet's still alive here.::  
  
::...she is?::  
  
Tilting her head to the side, Sam listened to the battery of tests the good Doc was ordering. ::Yes. Ah.:: She sighed. ::Blood work. She always was a good mini vampire.:: The needle going into her arm was given an extra shove. ::Ow. I think she can read my mind.::  
  
Sometimes, she hated knowing the way Jack O'Neill would react to certain stimulus. Especially when he mentally sent a grin at her. Which gave her cause for thought. What if this telepathy was more than words? They were already exchanging tone of voice (or maybe simply reading into the words from the things they knew about each other). Food for thought. Another needle poked her and she sighed. Later.  
  
Considering, she sent a glare at him. ::I'm telling Dr. Brightman you need a whole new battery of tests when I get back.::  
  
::You wouldn't...::  
  
::Well... Ow. No, I guess I wouldn't. But you owe me a beer.::  
  
::You got it.::  
  
"Right." Dr. Janet Fraiser briskly turned away from Sam and called, "Jones, Reed, I need you to escort her to X-Ray for a cat scan."  
  
::Oh, joy. The cat scan. I hate this thing. I hate being strapped down and I hate staring up, and I hate the stupid music they play, and... I'll be quiet.::  
  
::Maybe more than one beer...::  
  
::Good.::  
  
It was the same grey-walled room, the same massive machine that she'd been in too often. She eyed it and then let them strap her onto the board, shivering slightly in the cold. ::Tell me a story while I'm stuck in here?::  
  
::What kind of story?::  
  
::Something... I don't know. Something about the good guys winning and the bad guys getting blown to smithereens?::  
  
::The story of the little Colonel that could?::  
  
A slight smile touched her lips as she stared up at the blank white of the machine. ::That sounds good. Are there lots of explosions?::  
  
::Yeah. Also, an attractive Brigadier-General.::  
  
::Sounds like a good story.:: She refrained from smirking. Barely.  
  
::Yeah. I'm hoping it gets its own spin-off someday.::  
  
::With fishing in Minnesota?:: She guessed, suddenly wondering why the white above seemed to have variations and grades of color. Maybe they'd added a light show.  
  
::Possibly.::  
  
::Are there fish in the lake?::  
  
::Yeah. Big ones.::  
  
::And they never get caught.:: She said, smugly, knowing that Teal'c had confirmed that fishing was an art that required no fishing. She knew, suddenly, that Jack was making a face. ::Heh. I can see that from here. Hrm. So, where do the explosions come in?::  
  
::After the big, bad snakes do.::  
  
::And the big, bad snakes, they come from... a galaxy far, far away?::  
  
::Yeah, sure.:: 


	5. Chapter Five

Okay, so that had been lame. Sam made a face up at the shadows. ::Teal'c is a bad influence on me. ::  
  
There was a vague mutter from him about science fiction and its detriment of society.  
  
::It's your own fault for giving him a VCR, sir.:: She pointed out, wishing she could move. Run and dance, leap and soar. This stupid cat scan was really beginning to irritate her.  
  
::Yeah, but he looked so damn cute when he asked for it. How could I resist?::  
  
::Telling a jaffa 'no' should be easy, Jack. You just shake your finger at him and tell him he's been a bad boy.:: There was something wrong, she thought. Something swirly and blue and gold.  
  
::...my. The mental images.::  
  
A blink, and she could see more colors above her. ::I think one of those needly-thingies stuck me with drugs. Damn.::  
  
::...drugs?::  
  
::Drugs. I think they're trying to put me to sleep like a cat nobody wants anymore.:: Her mind wandered, her eyes unfocusing as her head began to swim upstream. ::Have you ever had a cat, Jack? They're cute. They purr and shed -- I used to have a white cat named Sheba, and I could never wear anything but white because she'd shed all over me.:: I'm rambling, she wanted to say, but couldn't.  
  
::Stay with me, Carter. I'll get you a cat if you do.::  
  
The world shifted, and she realized she was back in the infirmary proper. General O'Neill was scowling at her.  
  
"Jack says he's getting me a cat."  
  
Dr. Fraiser eyed her, then shook her head. And whispered. Unfortunately, Sam felt like someone had turned the volumn up on her hearing. Every word echoed in her brain. "She appears to be perfectly normal except for some protein and naquadah. And there's no symbiote."  
  
"You're certain?"  
  
"As I can be, sir."  
  
"Thank you, Dr. O'Neill."  
  
::I think they're the truth kind of drugs. There should be men in pin stripe suits now to question me about my mafia connections. And could I have a little black one?:: Sam decided to ignore the other people.  
  
::I'll get you the nicest little black cat I can find.::  
  
::The other you didn't smile when I told him that.:: In fact, he was still staring at her suspiciously. ::They think I'm a spy, although they know I'm not a goa'uld anymore. Janet keeps staring at me like she's seen a ghost. Which is funny, since that's what I keep thinking.::  
  
::The other me is a moron.::  
  
::I'll pass that on.:: "General O'Neill, sir? You're a moron. My General O'Neill said to tell you that. Well, he didn't say to tell you, but he said it, and I wanted to tell you, because you are."  
  
Several expressions crossed the man's face, and Janet actually gaped at her.  
  
Sam giggled, then winced as her head began to pound. "What the hell did you give me?" ::They don't seem impressed, Jack.::  
  
::Not appreciating my finely-honed humor...:: Jack said dryly.  
  
::I've always appreciated it, Jack.:: The room began to tilt suddenly, and she swore softly. ::I bet they didn't compensate for my screwy biology when they stuck me. Stupid stupid people.:: The world began to grey out.  
  
::Jack?:: He sounded startled. Ah. He'd noticed.  
  
::It seems silly to call you 'sir' when I'm stuck in another universe.:: She explained, aware she was rambling. Aware she needed to shut up, but not quite able to. ::Besides, the last time you were a figment of my imagination, I... Ow. I think they noticed the wooziness. Janet's waving a large blinding light in my eyes.::  
  
::Tell her to get lost. What about the last time I was a figment of your imagination?:: NOW he was interested.  
  
Just like a man. But cliches were cliches for a reason. ::You weren't you. Well, you were my mind's conception of you. Ow. But that was because I'd hit my head. I couldn't even --::  
  
"Colonel Carter, whoever you think you hear isn't there." Janet's voice was soft, but she was still waving a needle at Sam.  
  
::Ow. Janet seems to think you're still not there. Hah. A lot SHE knows. Stupid medical Napoleonic power monger. The other you is now consulting with... Daniel and Jonas? Wow. They're uh.... Wow, these must be really good drugs. I'd swear Daniel and Jonas were holding hands...::  
  
::Oh, uh...::  
  
::You told me you were the safe bet. Hah. I told me you were the safe bet. A million to one odds in a galaxy full of black holes, is what you really are. I told Pete that, once, but he didn't understand me.:: Now she was definitely rambling. She should have stopped talking hours ago. Before the mirror. Before they understood what this was. Because she could feel her sense of self eroding, even as she told Jack O'Neill things she hadn't, and wasn't planning to.  
  
::...the safe bet?  
  
"You had a strange reaction to one of the tranquilizers." Janet was back, poking at her arm. "I gave you a stabilizer, but I need to take a little more blood."  
  
"Damnit, Janet, you always were nothing but a Napoleonic power-monger." The moment the words left her mouth, Sam froze. Erk. She really hadn't mean to say that. But she was getting tired of giving blood. At this rate, she'd have no blood left by the time the day was done.  
  
::Janet said I'm having a bad reaction to something or other. She's given me something to counter it.:: She told him, because she had to tell him something, and explaining her feelings was currently out of the question. The room was still shifting in and out of focus. Janet had gone, and she could hear things, but not completely.  
  
Having Jack O'Neill talking was the only thing keeping her grounded. ::Good. Now, you were saying about safe bets?::  
  
::Jonas just called me Jolinar.:: I'm not Jolinar, she wanted to yell. And then realized to her horror that she had. The other people in the room focused on her. ::Um, I guess I shouldn't have yelled about that. I'm not Jolinar anymore. And I don't want to talk about it.::  
  
::Er...all right. And of course you aren't Jolinar.::  
  
::Right. That's what I said. But they were very insistant, and... I think that's why they don't like me.:: She was confused, because she couldn't be Jolinar and not have a symbiote which meant... the thought escaped her. She knew it meant something, but not what. Frustrated, Sam growled softly.  
  
::Well, they're morons too.::  
  
::When I get back, I promise to never ever go through that stupid mirror ever again. And I'm hitting Daniel for finding it and suggesting this plan.:: At least her inner monologue was coherent. Mostly.  
  
::I'll help you.::  
  
::Good. Oo. The condemned get lunch. Ick. It's infirmary food. Janet must still be pissed about the Napoleon crack. You're a bad influence, Jack.:: She poked at the tray and made a face. She might (probably should) be hungry, but it really didn't look appetizing.  
  
A cough. ::Sorry, Carter.::  
  
::Huh. Two of the SFs are giving me strange looks. Now what? It's not like I'm talking out loud to myself.:: She scowled at them, and they looked away. Good. She was suddenly reminded. ::Hey. Weren't you going to tell me a story?::  
  
::Uh, sure.:: He sounded uncertain.  
  
Sam let a smirk touch her lips, prepared to tease him about it, but then the General reappeared. Not her General, of course. No, she couldn't get THAT lucky. Ever. ::Ah, the Moronic General O'Neill has come to tell me my fate. Hold off on the story.::  
  
::Too bad I can't tell him to get lost.::  
  
"General, Jack says to get lost." She said cheerfully.  
  
"Colonel Carter, if that's who you are, whoever this Jack of yours is, he's obviously a figment of your imagination." The man looked irritated.  
  
She had to admit, it probably was irritating. But she also had Jack O'Neill in her head. "Look, General, I can't help being telepathically linked to the General O'Neill from my universe, so you'll have to suck it up."  
  
A slight smile touched his lips, then he straightened. "Then tell that figment that, like me, he's a pain in the ass."  
  
::He says to tell you that, figment of my imagination or not, you're a pain in the ass. I agree. But I kind of like you anyway.:: She added, just in case he was worried. And he could be worried, after the stupid crap she'd said before. Not that she was completely sure what that was.  
  
::Of course you do.:: He was probably smirking smugly. Damn him.  
  
The next few minutes passed in a blur of explanation that left her gaping, and then sighing. She closed her eyes, and informed Jack. ::Huh. Okay, so, in this universe, Jolinar is still alive and well. And living in my body. Ugh. Which means they're going to let me come home. Good. But they're still not certain I'm not a za'tarc... For cryin' out loud, they're gonna make me get analyzed by Anise and her machine.:: Sam dropped her head into her hands, groaning. ::WHAT have I done to deserve this?::  
  
::Agreed to join the SGC?::  
  
Oh, great. HE could joke about it. She decided not to speak to him anymore, and got up to follow the General and his SFs. They walked down the normal, grey, faceless corridors, and came to a room she remembered well. One she hated remembering, if the truth were known. Anise (or Freya, as the host was known) was inside, full lips pouting as she sported another ugly costume. Well, at least some things stayed the same.  
  
They directed her to the chair, and she broke her silence. ::Have I mentioned how much I hate Anise before? Because I do. I really really do.::  
  
::I hate her too.:: There was something almost comforting about his tone. Like a warm fluffy blanket.  
  
She latched onto him, letting them strap her down. ::I hate being strapped into this stupid chair.::  
  
And the questions began. Her life history, the Tok'ra, the goa'uld. Specific missions. And Sam considered lying and ranting at them, but that wouldn't help. She wasn't sure why they thought she would be a Tok'ra, but she assumed they were expecting them at the drop of a hat.  
  
And then Anise's tactics changed. By then, of course, Sam was barely awake. There had been occasional comments to Jack, and his snarky replies, but even then she knew she'd lost time in the stillness of the SGC.  
  
"How would you describe your relationship with General O'Neill?"  
  
::Oh, god-damnit, I didn't think Anise could get any more vapid. Now she's asking me about my relationships! Why? So she can figure out how to get into General O'Neill's pants? She sure as hell can't get Dr. Jackson,:: Sam snickered. ::Unless he and Jonas are into sharing.:: To Anise, she said, "I really don't think that's any of your business."  
  
::...and is it common for women to want to get into General O'Neill's pants?::  
  
"Actually, Colonel Carter, I believe it has everything to do with the way you believe you are telepathically linked to him," The Tok'ra corrected calmly.  
  
"I don't want to be." Damn. That had probably registered as a lie. ::Yes? I mean, hell, what woman in her right mind wouldn't want to?::  
  
::I'm flattered.::  
  
::You should be. Of course, I probably growl at too many of them...:: Where the hell was her brain? ::Damn. I think I'm still drugged.:: A blush colored her cheeks. Damn stupid za'tarc machine.  
  
::You growl at them, huh?::  
  
::You never -- of course you never noticed.:: She refrained from muttering something aloud, but hoped the tone translated well. ::The man can turn a goa'uld mother ship on a dime, but he didn't notice I growl at women....::  
  
::So...you want to come with me to pick out that kitten, Carter?::  
  
::Sure. If Anise doesn't fry my brain with her stupid machine.:: And they were back to missions, this time starting from her first encounter with the stargate.  
  
::And...uh...I'll be glad to help you look after it.:: He sounded almost tentative. For Jack O'Neill to sound tentative -- hrm. Maybe he'd accidentally gotten drunk.  
  
Not commenting on that, Sam instead complained, ::This could be a while. She's going through almost every mission I've been on. If my hands weren't strapped down, I'd shake my fist at her for wasting my time. Hrm. You know, I'm still alive in this reality. I wonder how long it'll be before I start suffering Entrophic Cascade Failure...::  
  
::Have you told them that? Because if they wind up hurting one of my best officers, I will be pissed.::  
  
Aw. Made her feel all warm and fuzzy. Or maybe that was the embarrassment. She could remember saying things, earlier. About halucinations and him and safe bets. ::Tok'ra Spice has paused in her questioning. I think Janet is informing her of the problem. Maybe I should apologize for the Napoleon remark.::  
  
::If it would keep her from sticking you with more needles.::  
  
::...I just had a thought. Since when is Anise so easily accesible? Is she a fixture of this SGC? (oh, the horror...No wonder Daniel went gay) Ah. Janet's mentioning the cascade thingie. Good.::  
  
::I always liked her.::  
  
::She just got the strangest look on her face when I said that. Oh, fun. More questions...::  
  
::Hey, Anise! Ask Carter where she keeps her tequila!:: 


	6. Chapter Six

As if she'd tell Anise that. ::Second shelf in the back of the grey cabinet in my lab. Wait. You mean you haven't been drinking it? Jack, you might wanna keep an eye on Daniel...::  
  
::Oh, for crying out loud...::  
  
::He's the only one I ever told, but that was right after Sha're... Hrm. That explains why it stopped going down when he was dead.:: And made her worry about his current state of mind. Then she brightened. ::I can drink tequila when I get back.::  
  
::Sure. And then we'll go get a kitten.::  
  
::I feel about five, but I can't clap my -- ow -- hands.:: She sent Anise a glare that should have boiled metal. ::No, I am NOT a za'tarc, you stupid woman. I wasn't the last time, either.::  
  
::Yep. Just sheer, unadulterated Samantha Carter in there.::  
  
Oh. ::Yeah. And if you could see it, I'm blushing. And Janet is giving me a strange look again. Oh. Oh my. I just realized something. One of the SFs just called her Dr. O'Neill... Heh. You and Janet. Gosh.:: She smirked, completely amused again.  
  
::Er...:: Then he said, hastily, ::I, uh, was just kidding about the moron thing, Dr. O'Neill.::  
  
Sam snickered. ::I'm not tellin' her that. She might stick me with extra needles as revenge. And, remember, she can't reach you, so it's me she'll stick.::  
  
He muttered something almost unintelligeble.  
  
So she broke her own mental promise to herself and said, ::Do you know why you're the safe bet, in my head? Because you've always been there. I think I lost count how many times I woke up for watch, and knew everything was all right because you were there. Now it's Daniel I hear snoring, and Teal'c....::  
  
::Carter, I-::  
  
::Stupid drugs.:: Oh, yes. Blame the drugs. Or Anise. She glared at the latter. Because anything was better than letting herself believe she could turn this maudlin at the drop of a hat. ::Oh, good. Tok'ra Spice has decided I'm not a za'tarc. She's SO smart. They should give her a cookie. Laced with cyanide.::  
  
::Yeah...yeah, that's a good idea.:: His tone was distant. Probably trying not to let her know how flattered he was, but he wasn't interested in her that way anymore. Or some sack of shit thing like that.  
  
::Ah, walking again.:: Her time sense was still skewed, because one second she'd been strapped in the Chair, and now she was walking next to General O'Neill. Who was treating her like an idiot. ::Why, no, General, I won't tell anyone what I saw under your mountain. I won't mention that there was a big metal ring or -- Gah. You'd think he would realize that if WE have a quantum mirror that we also have a stargate and security clearances that prohibit casual observers from knowing about the stargate.::  
  
::I take it back. He is a moron.::  
  
::Janet probably doesn't technobabble at him. I wore off on you.:: She smirked, ignoring the disturbed looks on the faces of the people around her.  
  
::You keep me on my toes.:: Then he added, slightly smug, ::Although if the Asgard ever need a really stupid plan...::  
  
::Yeah. They know where to find me. Well, they will if these people ever get me back to the damned mirror.::  
  
::Do I need to come through and look for you?::  
  
::No. Janet would stick needles in you, and I'd have to wait even longer to get my tequila and kitten.::  
  
::...I could send Daniel through.::  
  
Sam smiled at that. It could be good revenge. ::Nah. We're -- oh, for cryin' out loud! Felger has my lab! Felger! In my lab!:: As if it wasn't injustice enough that she'd been stuck here, that her counterpart was still Jolinar, that Jack was married to Janet (who was still alive), that idiot, Felger, had her lab. ::Ah, there's the mirror. And, actually, it might be a good idea to have people standing by. They turned the mirror off and now we have to hunt.:: Idiots.  
  
::Right. I'll get a team together to welcome you back.::  
  
::Thank you, Jack.:: She continued, muttering in irritation. ::Felger. My beautiful equipment....::  
  
::Eh. I bet your lab is better.:: He was trying to placate her.  
  
It sort of worked. ::Of course it is. I have more toys. Bet Felger doesn't know how to sweet-talk the General into signing every requisition.:: Now she was smirking again.  
  
::Well, if you'd prefer more of a challenge...:: he suggested.  
  
::I get enough of a challenge out of -- hah! He doesn't have an Electro-PentaSpectometer! -- investigating the machines we find. But thank you for the offer.::  
  
::I love to make my people happy.::  
  
Wildly, she wondered if she could hold him to that, but it wouldn't be fair. ::Really? I'll keep that in mind.:: She distracted herself by watching the worlds showing in the mirror. ::Oh! Daniel! Wait.... Did you send Daniel, Siler and Walter to play strip poker in my lab, Jack?::  
  
::...not that I know of.::  
  
::Right. Not the right one, then... Daniel again, with Teal'c and...:: She blinked. ::Aris Boch? Yeah, definitely not the right one.:: They passed that universe by, and continued. ::I don't know why he's letting Felger do this. I'm sure I'd find the right universe better. Speaking of which, who IS being sent to meet me?::  
  
::Daniel and Teal'c. Hopefully not playing strip poker.::  
  
Oh, thanks, Jack. Those mental images wouldn't go away anytime soon. ::Okay... Maybe I'll even be home in time to sleep before my next duty shift.::  
  
::I'm sure I can arrange for you to get some downtime.::  
  
::Awww, and that's 'cause you know the nice man at the top, right? Aha. Daniel and Teal'c. And Daniel's... Awwww. Daniel's holding a picture of a cat. Was that your idea or his?::  
  
::Sorry I couldn't find a black one. Short notice and all.::  
  
::It's still cute.:: To the other General, she said aloud: "This is it."  
  
"You sure?"  
  
"Yup." She chuckled. ::I should be back in a minute, they're... huddling and arguing. Don't know why. Daniel's waving, Teal'c is looking stoic. Ah. Here we go. They're telling me good luck. Gosh. I'm touched.::  
  
::And am I going to get my officer back anytime soon?::  
  
::Hold your horses.:: She rolled her eyes and reached out to touch the mirror. ::Gah. That's not as cold as the gate, but it's still -- wiggy, Cassie would say. And I'm back.:: And Daniel was descending on her, arms closing tightly around her. "Ow! Daniel, don't break my ribs, damnit."  
  
Daniel pulled back, looking sheepish. "Sorry, Sam."  
  
"It's ok. As long as you stop drinking my tequila."  
  
The archeologist had no response to that, he just looked a little disturbed.  
  
"Which, speaking of tequila, I could really use a drink."  
  
"Uh, Sam, I'll, uh, have to buy you some more," Daniel mumbled, looking a little disreputable. Or maybe just embarrassed.  
  
"Good, good." She patted his arm absently. "Now I need to go find the General and request some leave. And then we're going kitten-shopping."  
  
Daniel gaped at her, "...all right, then!"  
  
"I was unaware that you liked cats, Colonel Carter." Teal'c said, his tone slightly amused.  
  
"Well, I do. They're not very high maintenance, and they're kinda cuddly... And the General promised he'd buy me one." Sam decided that she was legitimately still slightly loopy from being locked up and poked and drugged and za'tarc-machined.  
  
"Jack offered to buy you a kitten?"  
  
She peered at him, disturbed at his denseness. "Did you get enough sleep last night?"  
  
"Uh...not really."  
  
Right. He was tired and worn out. "Neither did I. Did you know you're dating Jonas in another reality?"  
  
He blinked at her.  
  
"I know." She said, as if he'd spoken. "Weird for me, too. And Janet's married to Jack--I mean the General."  
  
"Really?"  
  
Sam patted his arm again, "You seem very confused. You should probably go get a nap."  
  
"...yeah." Daniel pushed his glasses up his nose and exchanged a glance with Teal'c.  
  
Before she could call him on the strange look, Jack walked in. "Carter?"  
  
"You promised me downtime, a kitten, and tequila. Pay up."  
  
He blinked at her bluntness. "I think you need the downtime first."  
  
::Does it include beer and fishing in a lake without fish?:: She asked him, not letting anyone else hear the question that was suddenly strangely important.  
  
::...it could.:: He responded the same way.  
  
Sam let out a yawn, "I should sleep, then. And decide on the leave and stuff tomorrow." And maybe have this strangely important conversation when she was, y'know, awake.  
  
"Do you need someone to drive you home?"  
  
"My house is empty." She pouted at him, knowing it was childish, yet adorable. Not that she wanted to be adorable, but she could let that slide, here and now. "I have no kitten. I'd rather stay on base where there are other people."  
  
"Got it."  
  
"Right. I should... go and find quarters for the..." Sam squinted at the clock, then continued, "night."  
  
"You're officially off-duty until Dr. Brightman gives you a clean bill of health."  
  
"I retract all the nice things I thought about you. You promised me no more needles!"  
  
"Does that mean I don't have to go get you beer?"  
  
He was going to get her beer? That was kind of -- sweet. And why was she thinking of Jack O'Neill as sweet? "No." She crossed her arms and looked grumpy, and hoped that Jack didn't notice how she'd drifted over to kind of lean against the wall. Maybe she was keeping the wall stable. "But you can wait on the beer until tomorrow."  
  
Jack's eyebrow raised, and she knew he knew she was leaning against the wall. "Carter. Downtime. Now."  
  
A cough escaped her, and she looked down, trying to ignore how the floor seemed to gently sway in the breeze. "I'm not sure I can walk without help. I think my legs are too tired."  
  
He gave an exaggerated sigh and moved to stand next to her, offering his shoulder. "Let's go."  
  
Moving carefully, she slung her arm around his shoulders and felt his arm go around her waist. "If I pass out, you promise not to let me hit my head?"  
  
"Well, I enjoy having all my major limbs attached, so yeah."  
  
She tightened her grip. "Good man. Oh, look. There's my favorite home away from --" she paused to let out a massive yawn. "-- home." It was a short walk from her lab to the nearest base quarters, and she almost always used them when on base (because she spent lots of time there, as Jack was always telling her.)  
  
They maneuvered into the room. He shot her a glance, smirking. "Need me to tuck you in?"  
  
"Yes." She eyed the bed, wondering if she could just fall over right here and never get up again.  
  
Quietly, he replied, "And, uh, maybe tell you that story?"  
  
"The one where the Colonel and General blow up lots of snakes then fall asleep?" Seperating from him, she reached over and yanked down the covers to reveal clean white sheets. She smothered another yawn and sat down to take off her boots.  
  
He grinned. "That's the one."  
  
Sam glanced back down at her boots and sighed. The left boot lace was all triple-knotted and there was no way her fingers would have the co-ordination to undo it, so she pulled out her boot knife and hacked at it. Milo was useful. "Good. I don't think I'll be awake for most of it, though." She kicked off both boots and set Milo on the small bedside table, then flopped sideways on the bed and shuffled under the covers. Contemplating even bothering to undress would take too much energy. "You could tell me when ... I wake up?" She finally suggested, since he was still standing in the middle of the small room, looking at her.  
  
"Sure."  
  
I don't want to sleep alone. But she couldn't come out and say that, not even telepathically. "You're not a teddy bear."  
  
"No. No, I'm not."  
  
"Which is a pity, because I could really use one. Not that I normally sleep with a teddy bear, but they're kind of cuddly. And snuggly." She curled more on her side, still looking up at him. "And I bet there isn't one on the base."  
  
He came towards her and leaned over to pat her shoulder. "I'm sure you'll manage."  
  
"Yup." She could do this. She could sleep alone. Really. She closed her eyes. "Good night.. Jack."  
  
"G'night, Sam."  
  
He was still hovering, and suddenly she really didn't want to sleep alone, and she was tired of dancing around the subject and not saying anything. And so she found herself half-sitting up, her hand wrapped around his collar. He was just a little off-balance.  
  
"Er, Carter."  
  
"You're very dense. Get in here before I wake up more and hit you." Her grip loosened.  
  
Luckily, she didn't have to tell him twice, he shed his boots and slid underneath the covers, his arm going around her waist.  
  
"Now," she yawned, "We just wait for someone to find us like this. Then they can stop speculating."  
  
"Oh, this'll give the rumor mill lots of fodder. They've already been buzzing with the telepathic connection..." He mumbled against her shoulder.  
  
"You told them?"  
  
"Daniel did."  
  
"Can I kill him tomorrow?"  
  
"I'll hold him down."  
  
"Right."  
  
-tbc-  
  
Further note: There are at least three more scenes we've got that have to be played with, converted, etc. 


End file.
